


Enough

by chooken



Category: Westlife
Genre: Anal Sex, Belly Kink, Belly Rubs, Body Image, Body Worship, Boys Kissing, Eating, Established Relationship, Feeding, Feeding Kink, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Food Kink, Kissing, M/M, Self-Esteem Issues, Smut, Snogging, Spooning, Stuffing, Weight Issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-25
Updated: 2015-06-25
Packaged: 2018-04-06 01:11:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,195
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4202244
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chooken/pseuds/chooken
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mark's is self conscious about his weight.  Nicky is not okay with that.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Enough

It isn't that Mark's not gorgeous all the time, though god knows he is. Nicky could write sonnets about how gorgeous Mark is, if he had any such inclination. He doesn't, though, because writing sonnets would be a time waster, distracting him from what's really important, which is getting to look at Mark and appreciate how gorgeous he is.

The severely frustrating part is that Mark doesn't seem to get that.

Not that Nicky wants him to be arrogant at all. There's a sweetness about how not arrogant he is. How he's this sweet, awkward thing that's not so much shy as he is wonderfully, adorably self-conscious, always tugging his jacket across his stomach and fiddling with his shirt as though he's worried people might notice there's actually a person under there.

Nicky likes the person that's under there. He always has. Because Mark is funny, clever, kind... He's more like an experience than a human being, like something Nicky is investigating slowly and carefully and knows no matter how far he gets there will always be more of Mark to explore. Tiny, enigmatic smiles and jokes that seem to come out of nowhere and being able to discover a new thing every single day that makes the certainty that Mark is the right one for him even more concrete.

And for the last couple of months Mark has looked... Nicky isn't sure how to put it. They all lose weight when they're on tour, obviously, and the lot of them have always yoyoed a little bit over the course of the last four years, but that's different. And god knows Nicky would take Mark no matter how he looks. Has, in the past, when they've been sick and drippy or wearing the worst clothes wardrobe could find or growing out terrible haircuts. That's never been an issue, because Mark is gorgeous.

But he's looking thinner lately. And not in a way that's about self-esteem and eating right and exercising. Just in a way where it looks like he's quietly, perpetually miserable and hungry. Like maybe it's getting to him a bit, the crap that management is always spouting about image and all of that. His arms don't feel as strong wrapping around Nicky in sleep, and Nicky can feel too many ribs when he strokes under a loosening shirt. Like there isn't enough of Mark, and that's just not good enough.

“You want some of this?” He may as well ask, even though he knows what the answer will be. Mark shakes his head, stabbing determinedly at his salad. Nicky looks back at his fish and chips. “You sure? I can't eat it all.”

“I'm fine.” Mark puts a bit of carrot in his mouth and chews thoughtfully.

“What kind of dressing you got on that?”

“None.” Mark shrugs. “Just, you know, vegetables.”

“That sounds boring.”  
  
“It's fine.”

“What did you have for breakfast?”

“Muesli bar.” Mark shrugs again.

“What are you going to have for dinner?”

“I dunno.” Mark cocks an eyebrow, looking suspiciously in Nicky's direction. “What's with the sudden interest in my food?”

“No, just...” Nicky sighs, reaching out across the table to pat the back of Mark's hand. It isn't that he's even lost a lot of weight. Yeah, he looks a bit less squishy than usual, but it's this thing in Mark's eyes, like he's beating himself up over something. “I ever tell you how utterly gorgeous you are?”

“It's come up.” Mark smirks while he continues absently poking at his food. “You're biased, though.”

“I'm extremely biased.” Nicky agrees. “There's this inconvenient thing where I love you.”

“How's that going?”

“It's coming along.” Nicky chuckles. “Have a chip.”

“No thanks.” Mark puts some lettuce in his mouth. Chews. Swallows. It looks painfully mechanical. Nicky gets it. He's all for the healthy eating and going to the gym and that, but he's also a big fan of Mark being happy. “I love you too.”

“Good.” Nicky slides around into the seat next to him, wondering why he's been sat across the table when he can be right here, sneaking his hand under the table cloth to close on a knee. They're over in the corner of the hotel restaurant, so nobody's likely to see. Mark glances up, smiles when Nicky drags his plate around to settle in front of his new spot.

“Hello.”

“Hello.” Nicky nudges him lightly, gives his knee another squeeze. “How cute are you?”

“I dunno. How cute am I?”

“It was rhetorical. But the answer is 'extremely'.” That gets a little laugh. “You on a diet or something?”

“Just... you know. Trying not to eat crap.” Mark looks back down. “Don't want to look shit. You know.”

“When have you ever looked shit?”

“Dunno. We've got to do photo shoots and stuff all the time, so... I looked a bit crap on the telly the other week. Thought I'd better...”

“Better...?”

“You know.” Mark shrugs. “Just... whatever.”

Nicky wishes they weren't in public because he sort of wants to give Mark a hug. A proper one. Gather him up and kiss his hair and squeeze him so tight they become one person. Instead he just settles for sliding a hand up his thigh and caressing the long muscle there. He eats a chip with the other hand. It's delicious. Salt and tomato sauce on his tongue while Mark pushes more lettuce into his mouth.

“Oh.”

“Mm.” Mark replies. He pushes the plate away. “Anyway, I'm full.”

“Okay.” Nicky sighs. He feels guilty, all of a sudden, eating this in front of Mark. Like he's rubbing it in. Which is silly, because Mark's made his decision, but he can't help it. He always worries about Mark. It's what he does. He pushes his own plate away. Mark watches it go. “You sure you don't want some? I can't eat another bite.”

Mark looks torn, then shakes his head. Nicky squeezes his knee.

“You're perfect.”

“Yeah.” Mark snorts. “Okay.”

 

*

 

It's a few weeks later that they're getting dressed for a record company do. It requires a suit and tie, but at least they're able to do that at home instead of in a hotel, take their time in their own house, have a bit of a snog in their own shower and muck around while Mark looks for his shoes and Nicky sorts out his tie. His boyfriend's in front of the mirror now, fiddling with his jacket. He keeps shrugging, tugging it closed and then shrugging again, like he's trying to get it to sit right. Nicky goes over to help, sliding hands inside the shoulders and leaning up to put a kiss on a straight nose.

“You look lovely.”

“You have to think that.” Blue eyes roll bashfully. Nicky kisses his nose again, then his chin, then his cheeks, circling carefully until he can drop a kiss on full lips.

“I really don't. I could think you look like crap.”

“Do you?”

“Definitely not.” Nicky smiles. “You okay? You look a bit pale.”

“I'm okay.” Mark shrugs. “Maybe I'm coming down with something.”

“Or you're not eating enough.” Nicky purses his lips, sees eyes drop away. “Is everything okay?”

“It's fine. I'm allowed to go on a diet.”

“Is that what you're doing?”

“I guess.” Mark starts to readjust his jacket again. “Not that it's helping.”

“Helping what?”

“You know. This.” He pats his stomach. Nicky looks down, confused.

“What's wrong with that?”

“Podgy.” Mark looks away, his cheeks coming up with a bit of colour.

“Are you?” Nicky pushes the hand out of the way, feels the slight bulge of tummy under his hand. “Feels alright to me.” He drops to his knees, yanks Mark's shirt out of his trousers and shoves his head underneath. There's a little more space here lately. He hears Mark laugh awkwardly while he presses his lips to hairy flesh, peppering kisses everywhere. A hand moulds gently to the back of his head through the fabric.

“What _are_ you doing?”

“Enjoying your podge.” Nicky replies, his mouth full. “I like your podge.”

“So I _am_ fat?”

“No.” Nicky laughs. He pulls his head out, stands back up to drop a kiss on lips that are twisted into a bashful grimace. “You're gorgeous. We've been over this.”

“But I'm podgy. I look crap.”

“Those are not the same things.” Nicky pouts. “You look lovely. You always look lovely. I like that you're bigger than me. You're all warm and snuggly and you make me feel safe and happy."

“Oh.” Cheeks go pink. Nicky presses his hands to them, feeling heat beneath his palms. “But...”

“But what?” Nicky interrupts. He slides his hands back into the jacket, thumbs over a waist that is a little skinnier lately, then down to cup the swell of Mark's arse. “Your body is gorgeous. This arse...” He squeezes. It's still full in his hands. “This arse is ridiculous. You have any idea how much I love this arse?”

“What, my fat arse?”

“Your delicious arse.” Nicky winks. “I can get a good grip on it, yank you into me harder, and you're all warm and heavy on top of me. So good.” He brushes a kiss up a cheek, feels interest in the groin pressed against his. “Then fucking it. Spreading those round cheeks while I bend you over. So deep.” He breathes against an ear on purpose. Feels a shiver. “I worship your podge. You have no idea what it does to me.”

“Erm...” Mark sounds a bit lost. It's adorable.

“And this belly...” Nicky continues, one hand coming around to slide over the curve of it while the other still kneads the globe of his arse. It pushes under his shirt, finger dipping into his boyfriend's belly button before moulding to the soft flesh. There's less of it lately but there's still the hint of roundness. “God I fucking love this belly.” His love handles are almost gone but Nicky strokes over them anyway, nudging Mark's waistband down slightly to get at them. “You're totally sexy.”

“You're insane.”

“I'm not.” Nicky pulls back, lets his mouth trip down a strong jaw. “I fancy the hell out of you.” His hand slides up, feeling the shape of ribs and drifting over the flatness of his stomach. Up to pinch a nipple, missing the way Mark's chest used to fill out his palm. “I love watching you eat. Watching you really enjoy it. Then you flop back with your jeans half open and your hand on your belly and it's like sex. Like you're totally satisfied. It's delicious.”

“You're mad.” Mark snorts. “It's okay for you. You're always thin.”

“I'm the shape I am.” Nicky shrugs. “You're the shape you are. I'm not saying don't be healthy, but you look miserable and I hate it.” He pulls his hands out of Mark's clothes, uses them to smooth through dark hair. “If you're a bit podgy at least I know you're not starving yourself. Come here.” He tugs Mark down into a kiss, fingers still tangled in short strands of hair. Feels full lips move against his, the startling sexy feeling of a warm body pressed to his. Big and soft and perfect. A tongue that slides over his bottom lip while he sucks on Mark's top one.

“Oh.” Mark's eyes are bright when they separate, slightly heavy.

“Mmm...” Nicky murmurs, licking over a gorgeous plump mouth. “I want you. Want to stuff you full until you can't eat any more. Grab that sexy arse. Rub your stomach for you. See you really enjoy how good it tastes.” Fingers slide into his back pockets, curve to the shape of him and Nicky lets the grip tug him into a tighter embrace. “Then I'd fuck you. You'd be so hard. So full you couldn't move. Couldn't get away and I'd...” He grinds against Mark, hears a low, wanting hiss.

“Nix...” There's a soft gulp while he pushes under Mark's shirt again, lets his fingers find the shape of him, every curve. “What... what would you do next?”

“You won't find out.” Nicky shrugs, pulling away. Mark groans. There's a tent in his trousers, the tails of his shirt are dangling loose. “You're on a diet.”

“But...” Nicky smirks. Mark's too easy. Nicky's hard too though. God, the idea of straddling Mark's lap, pushing forkfuls of steak and ice-cream and chocolate and all sorts of delicious things into his mouth and feeling that hard cock underneath him...

He swallows, forces himself to step back. They really do have somewhere to be and now all their good work at getting ready has gone to waste. A quick glance at the mirror behind him proves his hair's been ruined from pushing his head under Mark's shirt. Not that he regrets it for a moment. No. The smell of Mark, the soft flesh against his lips. God.

“We need to go.” It's hard to say it. “Get dressed, and when we get home I'm going to suck your cock.”

“Jesus, Nicky.” Mark glances down. “You couldn't do it now?”

“I could, but I won't.” It's flippant. Mark just about growls in response.

“Why not?”

  
“Because.” Nicky smirks. Mark pouts. “Save it, okay? We'll have more time later.”

“Okay.” Mark looks sulky. It's a gorgeous look on him, lower lip stuck out and eyebrows knitted in. Nicky runs his hand up a smooth cheek, feeling the slight tingle of aftershave on his palm.

“Later, love.” He promises. “Now, come on.”

 

*

 

Mark is lurking around the bar when Nicky spots him. They all hang out together at these things, of course. It makes sense, they know each other, but the two of them have always made more of an effort to be seen apart at least a little bit, do the separate circulations of the room instead of doing what Nicky would prefer, which is to find a quiet corner and snuggle up together. It can't be like that, though, so here he is hanging off Shane instead when all he wants to do is walk over, wrap his arms around a solid waist and nuzzle into Mark's neck, breathe in that perfect smell.

“You know, it doesn't count as subtle if you're eye-fucking your boyfriend the whole time.” Shane teases. Nicky laughs, averting his gaze. “Am I not entertaining you, Nico?”

“You are. You're fine.” Nicky assures him. “Sorry.”

“It's fine.” Shane smirks. “I won't be offended if you leave me here on my own.”

“Yeah, but if I go over there I'm probably going to hump his leg.” Nicky admits. Shane rolls his eyes. Even his face is sarcastic. “He really is stupidly attractive.”

“Well, now that you mention it...”

“You can't have him.”

“I don't want him!” Shane raises his hands in self-defence. “He's all yours.”

“Yeah. He is.” Nicky sighs. Shane rolls his eyes again.

“I'll leave you to it, shall I?”

“Yeah.” Nicky sighs absently. It's probably a full minute later that he realises he's alone. Shane's on the other side of the room talking to Bryan and he's stood here by himself staring at Mark.

“Hey.”

“Hey.” Mark looks up when he sidles over. “Welcome back.”

“Cheers.” Nicky nods, glancing down at the glass in front of Mark. “What are we drinking?”

“Um... Vodka?”

“Cool.” Nicky picks up the glass, takes a sip. It tastes wrong. Flat and chemical. “Oh, gross. Is this Diet Coke?”

“Serves you right for stealing it.”

“Why the hell are you drinking Diet Coke?”

“Um...?” Mark raises an eyebrow. Nicky sighs, letting his hand gently squeeze the back of his boyfriend's neck for a moment. “What?”

“Nothing. Just...” Mark really is gorgeous. All big blue eyes and pale, pale skin that blushes so prettily when he's shy or sleepy or stretched out underneath Nicky, arching and moaning, those lips red and flushed against the pad of Nicky's thumb. God. Nicky touches him again, just a hand on his back for half a second because he can't not do it.

“Just?”

“Nothing.” He leans on the bar, making sure their sides are touching at least a little bit. “Do that cute thing again.”

“What cute thing?”

“You know. The thing you do where you're cute?”

“Which thing?” Mark demands, laughing, dimples appearing like punctuation marks in his cheeks. Nicky grins.

“That one.” He winks. Gets a soft blush. There's a waiter going past so he snags from the tray, turns back around. “Here, have a thing.” He thrusts one of the skewers he's grabbed at Mark. “You look hungry.”

“I'm not hungry.” Mark protests. Nicky keeps holding it out until he reluctantly takes it. “I'm not.”

“Right...” There's meat on this skewer, a bit of cheese and some roasted vegetables. It's pretty fantastic, like a little casserole on a stick. Nicky takes a bite, watches Mark nibble at a bit of potato on the end. “You can do better than that.”

“I'm not starving Nicky.” Mark retorts. “What's with trying to fatten me up all of a sudden?”

“What's with you not eating?” Nicky replies. “Come on. You haven't eaten dinner, and lunch was an apple. You need energy, anyway, with what I'm going to do to you tonight.”

“What are you going to do to me tonight?”

“You'll never find out if you collapse from lack of food.” His hand is drifting to Mark's back again but he can't fucking help it. He leans in, lips brushing a perfect ear. “Give you a hint. If you eat that, I'll eat something else.” Teeth dig into a lip, Mark's eyes darkening. Nicky takes a bite from the skewer, getting as far down the stick as he can before sliding slowly back up, stripping potato and beef as he goes, tongue trailing up as he locks his gaze with his boyfriend's, sees him swallow hard.

“Oh.” Mark says quietly. “Well.”

“Well.” Nicky agrees, nodding at the skewer still held in a tightening grip. “You'll need your energy.”

 

*

 

The single poached egg on wholemeal toast might actually be tormenting Nicky with how miserable it is. There's no butter, no salt, no nothing. Just this round white lump on something that looks like a piece of cardboard. Yolk spills out while Mark slices into it, globbing out onto his dry toast in a way that is thoroughly pathetic.

“You want some salt?”

“No, thank you.” Mark takes a sip of his tea. Skim milk, no sugar. God, Nicky feels like Mark's breakfast is actually boring him from across the table. There was a banana, which at least looked nice, but it's gone now and Nicky wishes it was back. Something with some actual bloody flavour. Nicky takes a bite of his sausage. The Belfast hotel is quite nice – they do a good breakfast buffet. Eggs, sausage, bacon, cereal. And Mark has managed to pick the least interesting combination he could find.

Mark's gotten thinner. Nicky doesn't mind that so much. It's Mark, and he always looks beautiful, but he doesn't look happy. Not at all. Looks like he's staring at every meal with a resigned glare, like the inevitability of another salad is more than he can stand. It's more than Nicky can bloody stand as well.

“We've got tonight off.” Nicky comments. “What do you want to do?”

“Dunno. Whatever.” Mark shrugs. “Stay in? Pick a movie?”

“Cool.” Nicky nods. He wants to reach out and take Mark's hand but the restaurant is packed. He hasn't even seen the others yet. It's early and it is their day off after all. Nicky was going to sleep in, but then he'd been woken up by a hand stroking down his chest, an intently lustful look in sleepy blue eyes, and there'd definitely been no rest after that. Mark had taken him deep, swallowed him in and it had been oh so good feeling that mouth suck, those cheeks hollow, sliding fingers into dark hair and coming hard.

Then Mark taking him. Tugging his legs over strong shoulders and opening him so deftly, sliding home and stretching him wide, Nicky's hips rolling into every thrust, fingers grabbing at a black t-shirt that Mark had left on through the whole thing. Which he doesn't think he's okay with at all, especially watching him tug it down every time it rode up a little, like he was trying to hide.

“Marky?”

“Mmm?”

He hesitates. This conversation feels like it's getting old. 'You're lovely, eat some food', 'No thank you, I'm on a diet'. The podge is starting to disappear, which breaks Nicky's heart more than he can explain. Not because of how it looks but because it's like Mark's trying not to be himself.

“I love you.” He says uselessly. Mark smiles.

“Love you too.”

 

*

 

There's a movie on, but Nicky isn't watching it. He's laid on his side instead, propped up on one elbow while the fingers of the other hand make slow trails up and down Mark's body, over his t-shirt and tickling up his neck, just absently exploring, enjoying the idea of getting to touch. Down a long thigh and back up, feeling the slight jut of hips, sliding over a broad chest.

“What you doing?”

“Touching.”

“Why?”

“Because it's fun.” He smirks, bending down to press a kiss to a creased forehead. Mark's propped up on the pillows so he can see the television, but he looks over at Nicky when fingers walk slowly down his sternum and to twitch up the hem of his shirt, Nicky's fingers smoothing over the strip of skin revealed. He bends down, kisses along it, feels Mark giggle and shift awkwardly. “Eat you up.” He mumbles, hears Mark snort. Tugs the shirt up a little to get at more soft, hairy flesh, and is thwarted when his boyfriend tugs it back down, covering himself. He looks up in surprise. “What's up?”

“Nothing.” Mark shrugs. “Watching a movie.”

Nicky sits up, crosses his arms. “Right. What's wrong?”

“Nothing's wrong.” Mark sighs. “Why are you obsessed with this?”

“Because you're hiding from me.” Nicky reaches out again, tries to push his hand under the shirt and feels stomach muscles recoil, Mark batting his hand away. “See?”

“I'm not, I'm just...”

“I don't...” Nicky pulls his knees up to his chest, rests his chin on them to regard Mark carefully. “You don't want me to look at you?”

“It's not...” Mark sits up properly as well, looks frustrated. Nicky doesn't care. He's frustrated as well. Mark has always been a bit self-conscious but...

“Did something happen?” He asks quietly. “Why don't you think you're good enough?”

“I...” Mark looks away. Nicky wants to hug him, so he does, uncurling and reaching over to tug Mark in. He's warm, soft, beautiful as always, but he feels insubstantial, like he's not just smaller physically. “People noticed.”

“Noticed what?”

“You know. That I'm...” There's a heavy sigh. “They took all the food out of my minibar.”

“Who did?”

“Management people.” Mark shrugs. Nicky pulls back in surprise, horror bleeding in a moment later. “Think it was a bit of a hint. They were right. I look shit.”

“You...” Nicky's already standing, letting go of Mark. “Who fucking did it? I'll fucking kill them.” He's seeing red already. Can't believe that some stupid bastard would do that. To any of them. But most of all to Mark, who doesn't need to change at all. Not a bit.

“Nicky...”

“No. Fuck them. I'm...” He's already pulling his phone. He doesn't know who to call. Simon maybe. Louis. Somebody he can yell at until the bastard responsible can be brought in front of a firing squad of one.

“Nicky.” Mark's chewing his lip. “It's fine. You don't have to.”

“I...” He sits back down, pulls Mark into a hard hug. “Is this why you've been on this stupid diet? Because some arsehole took your snacks away?”

“If they noticed, maybe everyone...”

“Who's everyone? The fans that want to shag you? The me that wants to shag you?” That gets a little grudging smile. “That's ridiculous. You're beautiful the way you are. You're beautiful the way you were. You're generally beautiful.” Nicky exclaims. He hears another laugh against his shoulder. “You're worrying me, you fucking plonker. You look miserable and hungry.”

“I'm okay.”

“You're not. You're...” Nicky reaches down, grabs the hem of his shirt and yanks it up. Mark fights him for a second and then begrudgingly lets him lift it. “Look at this.” Nicky gestures. There's hardly any of him left. “This belly.” He pokes it. Mark squawks and flinches. “Is completely podge-less.”

“Isn't that the idea?”

“Who's idea? My Mark has podge, because my Mark likes chocolate and biscuits and soft drink and hamburgers. This isn't my Mark. This is hungry Mark, who looks fucking depressed all the time because he's eating dry toast and salad.”

“It's healthy.”

“It's boring.” Nicky retorts. “I mean, yes, it's good for you to not eat crap all the time, but you can't just survive on...” He pokes Mark's belly again. “How long since you actually felt full?”

“I'm not hungry.”

“That's not what I said.” Nicky explains. “I mean, like, where you feel so stuffed your pants feel too tight, and you can't remember how to breathe. And you're going 'god, I never want to eat again... oh maybe just one more bite'.”

“A while.” Mark admits. Nicky pecks his nose, gives him a smile.

“Right. Room service.” He sees Mark go to protest, cuts him off with a kiss. “I'm getting you something delicious.”

“I'm fine, I'm...”

“You're totally fine. I want to go for excellent.” Nicky urges. His hand is already on the phone beside the bed. “Then, when you're all full and sexy and can't move, I'm going to fuck you.”

“Oh.” Mark bites his lip, cheeks pink. “That sounds alright.”

“It really does.” Nicky agrees.

 

*

 

“Open.”

Mark obliges. He's eaten half a bowl of pasta, a stuffed potato and a few pieces of garlic bread already. Looks totally gorgeous sat in the chair next to the small hotel room table, plates scattered across the surface. Nicky's basically ordered the entire room service menu and is helping Mark get past this stupid insecurity by feeding it to him himself. He's straddling thick thighs, one arm around broad shoulders while he navigates a forkful of spaghetti into Mark's mouth.

It disappears a moment later, the fork coming out clean. Mark chews for a few seconds before swallowing, laughing when Nicky pecks his lips.

“That's probably enough.”

“I doubt it.” Nicky glances back over his shoulder at the food. “We've still got at least one dessert to go.”

“At least?”

“At least.” Nicky grins, spearing the fork into the bowl again. He comes up with another load, dripping with creamy sauce. It looks totally fattening, heaped with grated cheese. There were three meatballs swimming in the sauce when they started, but now there's only one. He's saving that for the end. “Open.”

Mark does as he's told. Nicky looks down. Maybe it's just that Mark's been eating so little lately, but Nicky thinks he can see a little bulge where his stomach is. It's adorable, slightly swollen through his t-shirt. He wants to bend down and kiss it, but he's a bit busy, watching Mark chew his pasta. There's a little bit of sauce on his lip, so Nicky licks it off, creamy goodness exploding on his tastebuds while Mark's own tongue reaches out to touch his.

“Mmm...” He murmurs, sucking it in until they're kissing slowly, hands climbing under his shirt and up his back, thick fingers mapping out his spine. “Such a sexy boy.” He whispers as he pulls away, feels the bulge underneath him stiffen just a little. “Can't wait to fuck you.”

“Now?” Mark nuzzles his cheek.

“Not yet.” Nicky chuckles. “Not even close.” He looks back down, lets his hand run over the curve of Mark's stomach. “Not until this is full.”

“I can probably stop.”

“You can probably keep going, though.” Nicky doesn't know if he wants to push, but there's a twinkle in Mark's eye that makes him think that this is probably okay. It's nice, anyway, snuggling up like this, Mark's hands drifting up and down his back. “Little more.”

“Okay.” It isn't long until the plate of pasta's gone, Mark swallowing the last meatball with a hiccup. “I'm good.” Mark says while Nicky's wiping his mouth with a napkin. “If I eat any more I'll be asleep before you're in.”

“Will you?” Nicky grinds down, feels stiff interest beneath him. A little moan trips over Mark's lips, breathy and surprised. “I doubt it. You're not full yet.”

“I just ate a whole thing of pasta!” Mark protests. Nicky pouts, leaning in to kiss him. God, Mark's lips are soft. Parting and damp while Nicky slides his tongue in, tastes garlic and cream and starch. It's the sort of stuff that will go straight to Mark's hips, which is kind of what he's hoping for. His fingers slide underneath Mark's shirt, finding smooth skin, the ghost of ribs. Then over a stomach that is definitely rounding out just beneath his sternum.

“That's nice.” Nicky encourages. “Not full yet, though.” He hears Mark groan, rubs soothingly over the tightening flesh under his palm, down over a belly that's still flat under his palm, fingers dipping into his navel on the way past. “Still room.” His hand comes back up to stroke that swollen stomach while Mark gasps slightly, eyes falling closed.

“S'nice.”

“Yeah?” Nicky smirks. Mark is flushing slightly, though whether that's all the food or something else isn't quite clear. Maybe a combination of the two. “You're nice. Here...” He reaches behind himself, fingers still working at rounded flesh, and when he turns back he's pressing a bottle of ginger ale into Mark's hand. “Wash it down.” Mark does, taking a small sip.

“Thanks.” He tries to hand it back. Nicky shakes his head.

“Have some more.” He does. Tries to hand it back again. “Keep going.”

“I'm done!”

“You're not.” He lets his lips drag up a long neck, hand still massaging Mark's stomach. “Whole thing. You've got room.”

“I...” Then Mark shrugs, tips it back, and Nicky listens to three long swallows until the younger boy breaks away, sucking in a breath. He looks over. It's almost half empty while Mark lifts his hand to his mouth to cover a burp.

“Keep going.” Nicky urges. Hears Mark laugh slightly before lifting it back to his mouth.

It takes four more aborted tries, but a few minutes later it's gone. Nicky can hear Mark's breathing getting heavier, feel little gurgles under his palm where there's half a litre of soft drink sloshing around with his pasta and potato and bread.

“I'm done.”

“Nope.” Nicky leans over again, snags another plate. “Dessert.”

“I'm fine.” But he sees it. Sees Mark's tongue dart out for just a second when Nicky brings the plate into view.

“You don't want this?” He coaxes, looking down at the plate. “I got it for you. It's only little.” It isn't. It's a huge wedge of chocolate mudcake, drizzled with butterscotch sauce and a dollop of whipped cream, the thick buttery icing a meal in itself. Nicky runs a finger through it, puts it in his mouth, sucks suggestively while Mark watches, his eyes darkening while Nicky mmms and ohs his way through his mouthful. His finger pops free a second later. He slides it over Mark's lower lip, tugging gently at plump flesh.

“Maybe I could taste it?”

“Maybe you could.” Nicky agrees, reaching for the fork. He needs both hands for this, so he has to stop stroking for a minute, though he shuffles in, pressing them tight together so he can feel Mark's stomach against his. Rubs against it slowly and hears Mark whimper, feels him stiffen further. He feels a little rounder around the middle, probably due to the bubbles from the soft drink. It's totally delicious.

But not as delicious as watching those red lips open for his fork, sliding it in and seeing Mark's eyes fall closed in obvious pleasure as the flavour fills his mouth. Just a little bit. He's not going to start with a big piece and give Mark an excuse to stop. Just a tiny mouthful. And then another one. Then another.

“Taste good?”

“Yeah.” Mark nods. Nicky kisses him to taste it too, an explosion of chocolate and butterscotch on his tongue while he slides it over Mark's, feels it get sucked in, hungry and wanting. Hands are climbing his back again, talented fingers finding purchase and pulling them closer together, strong arms wrapping him up while he grinds down gently, feels Mark push up. “Oh.” Mark pulls away, eyelids fluttering on a bitten-off gasp.

“You like that?” Nicky murmurs. “Feels good?”

“Yes...” Mark hisses, pushing up into him again. “I want you.”

“I want you too.” Nicky coos. “But you're not full yet.” The plate's still held between them, so he slices another chunk of cake off with the side of his fork, scoops it up. It's held to Mark's lips a moment later, dripping with sauce and cream and icing. A second later it's gone. The next one, too.

“Too much.” Mark gasps after the next forkful. Nicky looks down. They're a little over halfway. He pouts, putting the plate aside, then reaches for another bottle.

“Wash it down.” He urges. “Then a little more.”

“I...” Mark bites his lip. He could stop, if he wanted, at any point. Could push Nicky off if it really was too much. But he's still here, still hard, and that's the main thing, like his body wants what his mind can't admit to. Blue eyes war with themselves for a moment, and then the bottle's being taken out of his hand, the lid screwed off, and he's taking a sip of cola. Just a little one. Nicky's hand are free again, so he sneaks them underneath, feels muscles shift as Mark takes another swallow. Then another. He feels a little rounder, filling out Nicky' hand as he slides his thumb over a belly button, fingers curving over him. It's not podge, but it's almost as good, his finger drifting up to caress a stomach that feels tight and stretched under his palm.

“That's it.” He murmurs while Mark swallows breathlessly, taking in little gasps of air between each mouthful. “Keep going, love.”

“So full...” Mark pants. “Can't.”

“One more mouthful.” Nicky urges. Mark does as he's told. “One more.” He manages it again. A few moments later the bottle's empty. Nicky leans back to look at him, a little impressed. A whole litre of soft drink on top of a big meal. He looks down. There's a sliver of skin showing where Mark's t-shirt's starting to ride up, his stomach definitely swollen now, belly bulging out a little over the tops of his thighs. “God you're fucking sexy.”

“I...” Mark swallows hard, hand drifting to his stomach. It rests there, like it's trying to hold everything in. “I don't think I can move.”

“I think you can.” Nicky grabs the hem of his shirt, tugs it up. Mark lifts his arms to help and oh... oh, that's nice. He thinks he can just see the outline of stomach through skin, round and tight. Runs his hand over it and hears Mark moan softly. A soft gasp when he drifts lower and caresses the bulge of his belly, like a drum in his hand. He pats it lightly, hears Mark whimper. Feels flesh that's stretched too tight, everything shifting inside.

“God, Nicky...” Mark's turned on. His eyes are almost black. He looks like he doesn't want to admit to it, blush climbing his cheeks like he's ashamed of how good he feels. Not that he can hide it, with how hard he is. Nicky climbs off, gets a good long look at a heaving chest, parted lips. It's stunning. His Mark. All of him.

He crouches, fumbles with buttons and zips, has to push Mark's belly out of the way a little bit to get to the top one which is the _best feeling._ It comes undone and the groan Mark lets out when Nicky pulls the top open is borderline orgasmic. And shit, there's jiggling when a over-filled belly finally has room to move, Mark's cock hard and weeping while he lifts his hips to let Nicky drag everything off.

“You're so hard.” Nicky breathes. Hears Mark moan again. A pearl of fluid drips from the pink, stretched hollow of his slit, trickles down the underside, and Nicky just has to follow it back up with his tongue.

“Oh god.” Mark whispers, chest hitching. Nicky rubs his cheek into the curve of that sexy belly, hears things slosh inside, gurgling when Mark shifts. “Nix... I'm so full. I...”

“Not full enough.” Mark groans when Nicky settles astride him again, reaching for the cake. He opens his mouth, though. Does it without even being asked and yanks Nicky into a kiss before he's swallowed, chocolate and cream mingling between their mouths while Nicky submits to that tongue, those lips. He pulls away when he feels twitching underneath him, the rising pressure of shrill breaths against his chest. Another mouthful goes in and then there's nothing left. Just chocolate and butterscotch and icing. Nicky runs a finger through it all, scoops it up, and holds it up so Mark can see.

“Last bite.” He teases. Mark lick his lips. “Can you take it?”

There's a slow nod. Nicky leans in to kiss him, feels Mark's stomach hard between them while the younger boy shudders at the pressure.

He slides the finger in. Feels the suck, the nip of teeth. Slides another in while Mark's tongue caresses the digits, slow and wet and suggestive. Nicky moans, feels his erection throb in his jeans. He's been hard ages, since that first, sinful bite of dripping, buttery garlic bread, but the urgency of his erection has paled in comparison to watching Mark. The total, decadent joy of watching Mark take everything Nicky has to give.

Mark's still sucking at his fingers, tongue curling and teasing, and Nicky reaches between them, their eyes locked while he starts to slowly rub Mark's stomach, tight and distended under his palm. There's a low whine, rumbled against his fingers, and blue eyes flutter closed, a hitching gasp shaking his boyfriend's swollen belly.

“Feels good?”

“Yes...” Mark groans, head tipping back while he lets go of Nicky's fingers. “Need you to fuck me.”

“Want to eat you all up.” Nicky murmurs. There's another soft groan. “So sexy baby. So hard...” He can feel it underneath him. Slides off to the sound of a desperate whimper.

He helps Mark up, gets him on the bed. The boy flops there, looking so obscenely stuffed it must be a crime, like he's melting into the blankets, everything flushed. Helpless and naked while Nicky strips off and climbs in beside him with a bottle of lube in his hand, rolling him over and spooning to his back. He lets his hands wander, down the curve of his belly, bloated out with soft drink and starch, his cock pressed to the swell at the bottom, leaking into Nicky's hand when he palms it.

“So round...” He breathes, hearing the wonder in his own voice. Mark's a wonder all by himself, though. Beautiful and pliant in his hands. “You're all full up.” A sensuous roll runs through the body pressed to his, sluggish and slow while Mark grinds into him.

“So full.” Mark gasps. “Too much.”

“Never too much.” Nicky assures him. “You're always enough.”

“I...” A moan splits the air when Nicky pushes fingers between them, settles them into the crack of Mark's arse and begins to rub slowly, loosening him. He doesn't feel tense at all, though, feels replete and accepting while Nicky coats his fingers with lube and slides two in, hears Mark's breath hitch while he takes it.

“That's it...” He encourages gently, his other hand still making slow circles on Mark's stomach, feeling the stretched shape of it. “Open for me.” A gasping shudder shakes the man he loves, his stomach tensing under his palm.

“Nicky...” He's hard when Nicky slide his hand down. So hard, dripping onto Nicky' fingers, slick and wet and wanting while he mouths kisses to a bowed nape. “Fill me up. Please. I need...” Nicky moans, lines himself up and then... oh... Mark swallowing him in, like he's been fed from either end now, passage working to accept him in the same ragged convulsions Nicky has seen working a long hungry throat only minutes before.

He stops when he feels Mark tense, finger stroking the rim of a belly button that feels tighter and shallower than usual.

“Only a little more.” He promises. Mark relaxes, lets him through. That's it. All the way in and Mark is crying out, twisting against him as much as he can with his belly weighing him down and fucking hell if that isn't the best. Feeling Mark rock against him, his fingers finding Nicky's and dragging them up to rub over his stomach, their palms flattening against it while Mark whimpers and fucks himself slowly, his hips doing the work.

“I'm...” Mark gasps, head tipping back against Nicky's shoulder. “Nix... I can't...”

“You can.” Nicky promises, his own hips taking up the rhythm, going forward as Mark goes back. “You can do anything, love. You're perfect.” He mouths over a perfect shoulder, both hands exploring every curve of that beautiful body, every lump and bulge and hollow. Up strong thighs and into the soft valley of hips, fingers finding ribs that seem in stark contrast to the swell of him, full and stuffed, tweaking at nipples, under the curve of his chest and back down to play at his cock, feeling the hard shaft fill his hand.

“Yes... Ah...” Mark's hand fists in the pillow, his knee hitching up to open himself a little more. “Oh... Nicky... I'm...”

“You're so full, baby.” Nicky breathes, feeling release near, his fingers tightening and working harder, feeling a pulse thrum under the surface while Mark rocks into his hand, hips moving so wantonly it's beautiful. “So tight and swollen and full and god, you're stunning...” He's not sure if he's talking about Mark's cock or his belly. Doesn't care, really, because there's a hand on each, urging Mark to the edge. Squeezing on tight flesh, feeling it shift under his fingers. “But I think you can fit in a little more...”

“Please... more... please...” Nicky bites down, feels himself go. The rush of release as he slams in hard, feels Mark take it while he spurts into grasping walls, into a rolling, desperate body that takes him so easily. Takes him and seems to want more as soft cries fill the room. His own. Because fuck. Mark. Forcing back onto him like a plea, breaths heavy as he tries to gasp them in around the weight of his stomach.

“Come for me, love.” He pants, sees eyes squeeze shut in concentration while Mark circles the edge, Nicky's hips still moving as he tries to target that spot with what's left of his softening erection. “You're all full up. Just a little more.”

“Yes.” Mark whines. “Oh...”

He shudders, legs bunching up while he cries out a garbled prayer, Nicky's fingers slickening a breath later. But that's not the best bit. It's feeling him move with it, like it's taking him over, like he's overwhelmed with how good it feels and fuck everything else because there's no denial in that rolling, thrusting shake, in those loud moans. No second-guessing or self-consciousness or hiding. Just Mark, hand fisting the pillow and holding on while Nicky holds onto him, onto every perfect inch of him.

“Uh... uh...” It's a gasp made into words as Mark tries to come down, still shaking, his hand closing on Nicky's over his stomach. “Uh... uh... uh...”

“I've got you.” Nicky promises, holding him close, knowing there's probably a fair bit of discomfort, that much exertion on a full stomach but fuck, he thinks Mark's almost sobbing with relief, can feel hitching shakes while he holds his boyfriend close. He kisses dark hair, tries to soothe the cramp he can feel tensing through him.

“Fuck.” Mark gasps finally, sinking into him. Nicky giggles, stroking his side.

“You're fucking beautiful, babe.” He whispers, getting a sated laugh in return.

 

*

 

“You know, you could just go over there.” Kian points out. “You don't have to stand over here looking like you're about to molest him.”

Nicky shrugs. It's another fucking function. He gets it. Make an appearance, shake some hands. Not that they need the pull. The Greatest Hits is about to come out so by this stage they're not exactly singing for their supper.

“If I stand over there I can't see him properly. If I stand over here, I get to look at the whole thing.”

“If you go over there, I don't have to look at you ogling my friend.”

“You don't have to look at it now.” Nicky retorts. “Go away and let me ogle.”

“I'm alright.” Kian reaches out, snags a beer from a waiter going by. Nicky grabs one too. “He okay? He seemed a bit down lately. Looked a bit... thin. You know.”

“He's fine.” Nicky nods. It's been a month or so since that impossibly sexy scene in the Belfast hotel room, and Mark seems to be getting back to his old self, letting himself have chips with his salad and a cheeky chocolate bar every now and then. He looks a Mark shape now. And the podge is coming back. God, Nicky worships the podge. Actively worships it. Last night he spent a good ten minutes just snuffling it before even going down on Mark, just burying his face into it and breathing it in while fingers tangled into his hair and Mark laughed.

He doesn't try to cover himself now. Not that Mark's ever been one for walking around naked, but it doesn't feel as intentional now, like if he needs to a shower he'll just shuck off his clothes and wander into the bathroom. And then Nicky gets to look at his arse. And his back. And his belly. And fucking hell, Mark needs to come over here right now before Nicky embarrasses himself.

It's probably coincidence but at that point Mark looks over and smiles at him. Nicky grins, giving him a wave.

“It's not subtle if you're waving at him like a teenage girl.” Kian points out. Nicky shrugs, waving with both hands now just to rub it in. He sees Mark laugh, begin to get up. A minute later there's almost six feet of gorgeous boy standing next to him, a small stack of cheese and crackers held in one hand.

“Hello.”

“Hello.” Mark chuckles, holding out his hand. “Cracker?”

“Yes please.” Nicky pinches one. “Ta.” He looks down Mark slowly, back up again, and when he gets to the top it's to look into a fond, indulgent gaze. “Well, hello.”

“Oh for fuck's...” Kian wanders off, beer still clasped in his hand.

“Another cracker?”

“Sure.” Nicky takes a second one, shoves them both into his mouth at once. Mark rolls his eyes. “You know how fucking sexy you are?” He asks, trying not to spray crumbs.

Those dimples come back. Nicky loves those dimples, dented into round cheeks, blue eyes sparkling above them.

“I know you think I am.”

“Good.” Nicky swallows. Mark chuckles, taking a bite of his own cracker. “You hungry?”

“I'm okay.” Mark laughs. “But...”

“Mmm...?” Nicky urges. He gets a cheeky smirk in response, and Mark leans in until lips are against his ear.

“I was thinking when we get back to the hotel we could order some room service, maybe. They've got a great dessert menu...”

“You don't say?”

“Mmhmm...” The laugh he gets next is low and hoarse. “Maybe you could feed me some raspberry cheesecake, a bit of peach cobbler...With ice-cream, of course.”

“Sounds good...” Nicky feels a shiver run up his spine at the low promise in that voice. “Then what?”

“Then...” Mark murmurs. “I thought you could strip me naked and we could make out a little. Let you rub against my podge.”

“Oh.” Nicky swallows hard. Oh, there's an idea. Grinding into soft flesh, feeling it sink and envelope him. Coming all over a stomach full with delicious, sugary things, tasting sweetness on Mark's tongue. “Really?”

“Really.” Mark winks. A waiter comes by, tray laden with food. Mark snags a plate. Nicky can't. He's too busy staring into space, visions of podge dancing through his head. A chip presses to his lips a second later. He lets it through, fully aware that there's no way this doesn't look suspicious. Mark smirks.

“Eat up.” He coaxes. Nicky swallows hard, feeling the chip stick in his throat the whole way down. “You'll need your energy.”

 


End file.
